𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄

VIII

[ picture found on Pinterest, don't know original poster sorry! ]
- HARRY POTTER -

I felt as though this year was going to go well. That i would be normal, as normal as a wizard boy could be. But no, famous last words, right?

They judge me as i stand, some in awe, some in disgust, some even jealous of the attention. Good or bad they crave it. Not me. I never wanted any of this. Never asked for any of this. Its as though i'm walking in slo-motion, i see every face realise one by one, see every face make the same assumptions:
That i did this on purpose.

And that only makes this walk of shame worse. People who say they trust me look down on me, reject me. And for what? A fucking competition. I'm done. I'm done with all this bullshit.

Reaching the podium, Dumbledore pulls at my sleeve, gripping it as though i may float away with a mere breath. "Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?!" He questions, seething.

Not everyone is worth saving...
Her words plague me at this time.
"No! How could i have sir? You drew the blasted age line yourself, never mind the fact that i've had no chance to!" I whisper-shout back. Accusing the accuser, he never really helped anyway.

He takes a second, as if searching my eyes for any hint of disbelief.
He'll find none.

"Go into the back with the other champions" He lets my sleeve go "we'll discuss this more later" i take the piece of paper from his hand, its not even in my fucking handwriting, before walking in the direction of the door. Before i leave the hall look back at her, to find her looking back at me. I shake my head and she nods.

Subtle trust from a distance.
The most I'll get in a while, so I savour it and walk through the door. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dimly lit room, candlelight illuminating the others faces as I walk in.

"Harry? What are you doing here?" I hear them chorus. I don't bother to try and explain myself, shaking my head I look to the floor in hopes they'll let it go. for the time being at least. Why must I be the one who always ends up enraptured in the throng of dangers dance? Why is my soul the one twisted with that of peril. Its unfair.

I feel as through I could scream as the pieces click into place. It wasn't me, I know that damn well. someone has orchestrated this, composed my demise as easily as they could a waltz. And all of a sudden I'm laughing, nothing loud or cracking but a low, thin chuckle. I played right into their hands, whoever they may be.

The others in the room look at me. Almost examining me, ready to sign my one way ticket to St. Mungos.

"I didn't do it." My voice cracking as the words leap from my tongue, would you trust the one who is always in the wrong place at the wrong time?

"Then why are you laughing?" Award winning question from bloody Bartimus Crouch Sr.

"Because whoever did" I state, " is a fucking genius"

"Mind your words Potter," Dumbledore exclaims, marching into the room "But I admire the sentiment. If you say it wasn't you, I'll take your word for it boy. But I'm afraid your name was pulled, if enchanted or not, meaning you must compete."

My face falls, the smile I had is ripped from my face as the words register. The world goes silent, and all I can focus on are words floating around my mind. Do not trust anyone. not everyone is worth saving.

The anger builds. I stay quiet for at least 30 seconds, unmoving, static. And let the bubbling start to boil, and boil, until it spills over.

"You have to be kidding me." My voice weak, unsure. "You have to be! what kind of school is this? You chastise me for my language yet you'll send me off to endanger myself? No... NobI won't,
i wont do it."

Mr Crouch starts to speak, in an attempt to belittle me and my childish outburst, then stops himself. Stops himself from solidifying my point.
You call me a boy, yet expect a man.

I cant stop the tears before they come. one by one, falling down my cheeks. "I'm 16 professor. I'm just a child. I never wanted any of this! any of it!"

My knees feel as though they'll buckle beneath me.

"Harry, go to your dorm. We'll sort this in the morning"

I scowl at him, how dare he put this off? but I go. I'm too tired to argue any longer.

The corridors are near silent, only my sobs echoing on the cold stone walls and the odd portraits whispering. and that's when I see her, sitting against the all outside the Gryffindor tower. Alone, waiting. She looks peaceful but troubled, she must hear my footsteps as her head shoots up to look at me. What a sight for sore eyes.

The rest is a blur, i feel her hug me. The warmth radiating off of her. The weight of her with me is comforting. "Your not alone" i hear her whisper, and i cant help but believe her.

The pain only continues, im glad he has pansy.
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